The Day of The Escape

XII. The Addiction, The Injuries, The Stalling.

The Addiction, The Injuries, The Stalling.

Brett stood in the doorway running his large hands through his hair. His jawline was rigid and a vein in his neck throbbed slightly. He was beyond pissed.

He huffed as I didn’t answer and decided to just talk himself, “I told you to call me! Why didn’t you call? You told me you would call!”

I didn’t answer and just pulled down on my right sleeve, clutching to the fabric. What could I say, anything I could say would just piss him off more.

“Ashley, you know what could have happened to you? You could have gotten hit by a car, kidnapped,” he gulped, “I don’t even want to think about the other possibilities.”

I hugged myself tighter and swayed back and forth.

“It’s 1:47 in the morning and you’re walking the streets alone.” he shook his head, “And look at you. Your lips are even bluer than usu...” He grabbed my arms and pulled me in the door before slamming it shut. “You’re shaking.”

I looked down at the floor as he talked. “Oh my goodness! You’re freezing! Why didn’t you fucking call?” he pulled my into his arms unexpectedly and his warmth filled the previously cold space. I wrapped my arms around him and we swayed side to side in silence for a long while. He’s the one who pulled away and he looked down at me, his features still showed that he was aggravated at me- which I guess was understandable.

“I honestly can’t believe you.” he shook his head.

I continued to stay silent. “Would you say something!”

I sighed lightly, but before I could speak I heard his mother’s voice from the stairs.

“Brett. What the heck is going on? Why are you screaming? You are going to wake up your sister. It’s almost two in the morning, go to bed. Ashley’s home, you can stop worrying and go to bed now.”

He was worried? About me?

He sighed and his mother gave him a stern look. “Fine. Fine! I’m sorry.” Brett waved his hands in the air and Mrs. Lincoln smiled as she made her way back to her room.

Brett turned to me and clenched his jaw once more before storming off up the stairs. His door closed sharply and I sighed before making my way up the stairs to my temp room and searched my bag for an item that I regret packing. I knew I shouldn’t use it, but I wasn’t going to listen to the logical part of my brain; it’s an addiction.

And I caved in.

~*~

I wiped the metallic item down and then washed the new ‘artwork’ before I hid both yet again, one in my suitcase, the other with a wrap. I trudged to the bed and tried to sleep, the stinging in my wrist making it more difficult.

I woke up the next morning at five and looked down to find my wrist wrapped. I had hoped for it to have just been a dream, but I knew it wasn’t. Tears fell from my eyes and all I could feel was hatred towards myself. I pushed the covers off and changed quickly before slipping on my running sneakers and heading down the stairs. I started up my music and forced my headphones into my ears. I jogged in the misty morning air, humming softly to I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At the Disco. The sun rose higher with each hour that passed and I felt the sweat running down my forehead, neck, and back. Within the next hour I was at the gym and I used my new key to get in, finish my workout, and take a long, cold shower. I replaced my now damp wrap with a fresh one and then pulled on my clothes and tied my hair up. I made my way back to Brett’s and got there about an hour later at 10:38. I made my way up the stairs and to my temp room. I had to be at the gym again for my shift at three, so I sat on my temp bed and did my homework. There was a knock on my door at one and I called for them to come in.